“Yeah,” he says. “I want you to talk to her.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I poke fun at him.
Frankie looks up at me, apparently not in any hurry to leave. “There was a time when I thought your marriage was insane. But I can see now, you guys are meant to be together.”
I’m not sure that’s true. Life hasn’t treated me well, and I definitely don’t own a pair of rose-colored glasses. But it feelsgood to hear Frankie be so optimistic. I look down at myself, realizing that I’m disheveled. My hand is bleeding, and my shirt is missing a few buttons. But I’m not going to convince Marlena to stay with me by lying. She knows who I am and how I feel. It’s time to show her once and for all that I’m the right man for the job. Me, with all my bruises and scars.
CHAPTER 47
MARLENA
Irun away from my husband’s office, not caring who sees me cry. I pass Frankie coming down the stairs, and he looks on shocked. I don’t have the energy to pretend that everything is alright, so I just keep moving.
Entering my own suite, I slam the door and put my back against the wood. The emptiness of the space is calming, but my emotions are raw. My decision to go to Italy was made I just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much at the finality of leaving my husband behind.
I gaze out at the room and all the beautiful furniture adorning it. There’s a sofa that looks like an antique, and a massive walnut dresser with two full-length mirrors embedded in it. The walls are painted a soft cream color, and the carpet is a warm ochre. I haven’t stayed here long, but it already feels like home.
I had been thinking about moving into Francisco’s room. We could open this space for guests now that we’re married and sleeping together. But I guess that will never happen. We’re destined to go our separate ways, and nothing I can do will change that.
Brandon is sleeping in his room across the hall, I’m sure of it. He’s unaware of what I’m giving up on his behalf, and I want to keep it that way. I think of him almost like my son, even though there are only a few years between us. He was my responsibility long before my father passed away.
I can’t sit still and do nothing, but there’s nothing for me to do. I decide to start packing. I move through the living room of my suite as if every step is painful. I walk straight to the bedroom and open the closet door. There at the bottom, covered by shoes and folded shopping bags, is my old suitcase.
I pull it out. The thing is so ugly and battered that it makes me want to cry. It holds so many memories, most if not all bad. Always on the run, too afraid to have a permanent home, is no way to live. But I’m back to square one, and I might as well face it.
I know I’ll be happy in Italy, or rather, I hope I’ll be happy there. The villa was beautiful, but that’s not where we’ll be staying. We’re going to have to throw ourselves at the mercy of our family, and we’ll have to stay wherever there’s room for us. I’m not a fool. I know it won’t be as awe-inspiring as Francisco’s place.
I just hope that it’s somewhere nice where I can walk out to see the sunrise. I hope that Brandon can enroll in school there, or do something to continue his education. I hate that he has to drop everything and start all over. If only I could make it work with Francisco and we could stay here. If only my father hadn’t made so many enemies.
It’s no use thinking like that. What’s done is done. I can no more go back and change my father than I can prevent Brandon from being kidnapped in the first place. All I can do is pick up thepieces and move on. But those pieces seem so heavy, and I’m exhausted just thinking about it.
I set the heavy suitcase on the bed and go back to my closet. Inside, I discover the same white cardboard box that was delivered to my apartment ages ago. It seems like forever since I’ve seen it, but I know exactly what it is. It’s the dress that Francisco bought for me to wear to Frankie’s party.
I pull the box out and put it on top of the suitcase, using its bulk to cover up the familiar bag. Inside, the dress and the shoes are folded neatly. I pull it out and hold it against my body. I loved the way I felt in this dress. It reminds me of the dance Francisco and I shared.
I walk out to the living room to gaze at it in the full-length mirror. It’s stunning. Looking around, I see all the objects of affection that Francisco purchased for me. There are four bags from Italy, each one full of beautiful clothes.
I don’t think I can take them all, but knowing Francisco, he’ll find a way. I imagine him hiring a truck to take all my belongings to the airport. Then he’ll call my cousin Carmine and instruct him to find me a beautiful home with a gigantic closet where I can display all my treasures.
I lay the dress gown gently on the sofa and turn to the bags. Inside, the bikini bathing suit I wore to the pool is crumpled up. I never had time to wash it. There are clean packages of underwear and dresses, tops, hats, everything that a girl could want.
I’m about to cry when the door opens and Brandon lets himself in. I’m surprised to see him walking. I drop what I’m doing and go to help him to the couch. He waves me away, pretending thateverything is alright. I can see him wince, but I stand back. I don’t want to insinuate that he isn’t capable. Sooner or later he’s going to have to get around on his own, and this is a good first step.
“How are you feeling?” I ask as he settles onto the couch.
“I’ve been better,” he jokes.
I nod sadly. There doesn’t seem to be much to say. I’ve walked away from the only man I’ve ever loved because Brandon wants me to. I don’t blame him. I blame myself. But I wish with all my heart that there could be another way.
“I told Francisco that we’ll be staying in Italy,” I announce.
“Good,” Brandon says. “It’s for the best.”
“How are you going to get a job in Italy?” I ask, sitting down next to him.
“I don’t know,” he replies. “I don’t even speak Italian.”
“We’ll have to learn,” I say.
